


The Thin Night

by Dryad



Category: Lewis (TV)
Genre: M/M, Post-Canon, post-ep
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-01
Updated: 2016-11-01
Packaged: 2018-08-28 08:51:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8439220
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dryad/pseuds/Dryad
Summary: Just a dream...





	

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to write something scary.
> 
> This happened, instead.
> 
> References to two other (short) stories: [Anassa Eneri](http://archiveofourown.org/works/555887) and ['Tis in My Memory Lock'd](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3145640). You don't have to read these, but they probably round out some of the finer details in this story.

Robbie yawned, and shifted, stretched as much as he could given how close the seat in front was to his legs. Right big bastard, to have let his seat back as far as it would go. Didn't he realize he wasn't the only tall bloke flying back to Blighty? 

Rolling his shoulders, Robbie looked to his left, to his right. At least that woman next to Lyn was asleep. Shouldn't've even been traveling in her state, never mind being in an enclosed environment. With any luck Lyn wouldn't catch whatever the woman had. That kind of wet, hacking cough bode well for no man. Lyn was asleep, too, which was a certain relief. There was only so much chatter a parent could take without the ability for someone to run the hell away. Besides, she had declared herself a big girl, and thus able to sit all by herself, next to a complete stranger. And then Robbie blinked. Slowly turned back to his left. 

The window shade was up, the muted red flash of the beacon showing every other second or so on the silver-grey wing. Beyond the wing were miles and miles of pure night sky, scattered clouds showing white-blue under the pure cold light of the full moon. Next to him, Val was pointing out the window, talking softly to Mark, who with any luck would nod off in the next few minutes. He certainly looked tired enough, the bruises of dark circles under his eyes pointed to a clear lack of sleep. Well, going to a new country was always exciting to a child, end of. Lyn took it all in stride, because that was the kind of person she was. Mark...he was definitely the more excitable of the two.

Val patted Mark's knee and sat back, smiling fondly at Robbie once she realized he was still looking at her. Glancing at Mark, she shook her head, then leaned close. "He's finally off."

"Took long enough," answered Robbie, equally softly. "Coffee ice cream is off the menu!"

Her shoulders shook a couple of times as she contained her laughter, but she nodded nonetheless. "Never again!"

Of a sudden, he clasped her hand tightly, run through with the certainty this was the last time he was going to see her. Amused, he decided to tell her that coffee ice cream was only for the adults, especially on _those_ nights when the kids were at Aunt Sissy's, but instead, completely different words came out of his mouth. "Don't leave me, Val."

A crease formed between her brows as she smiled a little. "What?"

Taken aback, Robbie stuttered a ridiculous answer. "Wh-when we get home, don't uh, don't leave me alone with the kids. I can never sleep on these things...you know what I'm like," he finished lamely.

"All right..." she said, still frowning, obviously wanting to ask him what was wrong. A moment later she reached into her purse, tucked securely under the seat in front of her, and retrieved two books. She offered both to him, giving a 'tut' at the expression on his face. "They're just books, Robbie."

The first book was _The Crystal Cave_ , which Robbie had started before getting bogged down in the Puglisi mess. Val had marked her page with one of Lyn's fuzzy red hair ribbons. Early days, yet, but he had noticed how close she kept it and forebore further commentary. The second was _Fear of Flying_ , all garish and pink with a black silhouette of a woman's spread legs, a zipper at her crotch partially drawn down.

"It is very American," she said doubtfully. And didn't he just notice her own skeptical look as she fanned the pages open. "Not really sure what all the fuss was about, to be honest."

"I don't think so," he said upon scanning the blurb on the back of it. "Not my type of thing."

Val hmm'd, tucked it back into her purse. "Having read it, I completely agree."

Robbie grinned at her smirk and eyebrow waggle. Yes, they did have a good time in bed...and out of it. Christ, there had been that one time, when the kids were both at nursery, he'd come home early and god, they'd been at each other like animals. He hadn't known just how flimsy DIY furniture could be, at that point, but he sure had learned.

"Go on," she said, reaching up to turn her light away from his face. "Try and get some rest. We've got hours to go, yet."

She was right, of course. The flight from Christchurch to London was damned long and he had only the day to readjust before he was back on shift. Morse wouldn't appreciate a tired bagman...Robbie grimaced. Something had come between the two of them lately, he wasn't sure what. Morse was snappier than usual, more cutting, more willing to take Robbie away from the family. Almost desperate to solve cases. Their trip to Australia and now Robbie and Val's trip to New Zealand; Morse had complained and urged him to go in equal amounts. It was confusing, and Robbie just didn't know where he stood any more. In addition, he was being urged less and less subtly to go for inspectorship by Strange, and others. He was bothered by it. Of course he wanted to be an inspector, of course he did...and yet, who would be Morse's bagman if he left? Who would be able to bear Morse's acid tongue? Would it be so disloyal of him to just...move on?

Shaking his head against the back rest, Robbie closed his eyes and tried to do as told. No matter what he thought now, once he was back in the thick of it - on All Hallow's, no less, so mischief would abound and if he thought he was going to get any sleep that night, well, best not think on it. Maybe it would be easier because he would still be on New Zealand time. Or something. Oh, it didn't bear thinking about anymore. Best to just enjoy being back home and getting into the routine of work.

~*~

_"Ladies and Gentlemen, we are on final approach to London Heathrow..."_

Robbie stretched, rolled his head on his neck, looked right and left, half expecting Val to be by his side, dismissed the familiar heartache a moment later, even though he knew she was long gone.

Unusually for London, there was bright sunshine outside the window. The scenery was as grim as ever - or maybe that was just his mood - an industrial landscape write large, surrounded by rows of low income estates. 

"Come on, man," Robbie said to himself. Time to shake off this melancholy. So what if he was returning to England alone? People did that all the time. They left lovers, one way or another lovers left, that was the nature of things. No sense in moping about it.

The journey from Heathrow back to Oxford was tedious. He supposed he ought to appreciate the scenery, looking at it with fresh eyes and all that, but he couldn't claim to be well rested after his long flight, and there for felt no compunction to feel anything but the natural desire to be home, already. 

At least he had taken a proper vacation, for once, albeit a very long one. And New Zealand _was_ very pretty. He wasn't quite sure why it hadn't lived up to whatever he had wanted. It wasn't like after Val, when he'd run as fast he could away from England, from everything that reminded him of...everything. Even the good parts. Maybe if Lyn had really needed him...she had had her own life by then, however. She had lost her mother, he had lost his life.

Thinking about it now just made him more morose, and no one wanted that, him least of all. Yet, couldn't a man wallow, from time to time? Wasn't he allowed that?

Which only brought him back to the reasons why he was back in Oxford in the first place. Because the truth was, and he could be honest with himself about this now, the truth was that yes, sometimes he did think of Val and yes, he felt sad, and why wasn't that okay? Despite the accusation hurled at him across a table littered with confetti, half-empty champagne bottles and dessert plates scraped clean of all but the barest of frosting, he did not compare and contrast his relationships to one another. There was only the fact that one did not bear upon the other, not in any ways that were meaningful. 

So when he had tired of the arguing, after realizing there was nothing holding him back, that really, he was free to make his own decisions, he sent an email to Innocent, booked flights and such and look at him now, walking off the train with his bags in tow, knowing he was back home for good.

Nonetheless, the sign and smile that greeted him was a surprise.

"Are you for me?" he called, his mood inexplicably lightened.

Hathaway did that close-lipped smile of his. "DI Robbie Lewis?"

Robbie shook his head and lightly smacked the hand-drawn sign Hathaway held. "Away with you."

"Did you have a good flight?" asked Hathaway, falling neatly in to step besides Robbie, as if he had never left.

"As well as can be expected," answered Robbie. "Anything I should know about?"

"There's a new Chief Superintendent, Moody."

"By name or nature?" said Robbie, noting Hathaway's choice of words. Honestly, as if Hathaway didn't know him. 

They breached the doors of the station and Robbie got his first good lungful of Oxford air. Ah, home. Acrid fumes from cars idling at the taxi rank, the bitter tinge of cigarette smoke, eye-wateringly strong chemical scent of perfume from a gaggle of teenaged girls walking past.

"Seems a relentlessly cheery sort, overall. This way."

Robbie had only been away for a few months, yet Hathaway's new found confidence - and his new car - were striking. Ah well, that was all the lad had ever needed. The doors unclunked and after putting his bags in the boot, Robbie was more than happy to be chauffeured to his hotel.

"I'll drop you off," said Hathaway after a few minutes of silent driving. "Still at the old homestead?"

"Ah, no..."

Hathaway glanced at him quickly before turning his attention back to the road. "No?"

Robbie shook his head ruefully. "Thought it was going to be permanent, didn't I?"

"Oh, don't tell me you - "

"I did, I did."

Lips pursed, Hathaway shot him another look before changing directions. 

"What? How was I supposed to know?"

"I'll just take you to mine, then," Hathaway loudly muttered. "And can I just say, that you didn't contact me directly about your arrival - I found out through the grapevine you were coming back - can I just say that any answer you might give me is utter bollocks?"

Touched, and a little ashamed at his own embarrassment, Robbie shrugged a little. "I didn't want to be a bother, man. Besides, it's not a grand thing, coming home with my tail between my legs."

Watching Hathaway's beloved profile, and oh, he was not happy with Robbie, not at all, Robbie felt at long last back on track. "I missed you too much to stay away."

That earned him another look, this one surprised and a little mollified at the same time. Robbie didn't say anything else for the rest of the journey, and it wasn't until Hathaway left to go back to the station that Robbie realized Hathaway hadn't asked him a single thing about New Zealand. 

Interesting.

~*~

As it turned out, Hathaway had moved, too. His new flat was a little more lived in, Robbie was glad to see. For a long time he had assumed that Hathaway just really liked super tidy spaces, a result of being in Seminary, or just as a way of getting used to being a priest before the actual taking of vows. Over time he had come to realize the cleanliness, the white spaces, he lack of personal affects ran much deeper, a denial of everything Hathaway thought he shouldn't want. 

The flat - painted in pleasant shades of yellow and cream and white - was two bedroom, two bath, the kitchen not huge but certainly well appointed. Both bedrooms overlooked a long back yard, currently inhabited by several children and a couple of dogs, while the living room faced the quiet street. Robbie dropped his bags on the bed, drew the curtains and then used the toilet before wandering out to the kitchen, where Hathaway was making a cup of tea.

"Lizzie says hello."

Robbie heaved himself onto one of the breakfast bar stools. "She's a nice lass."

"She is," Hathaway added one sugar to the cup, stirred, and pushed it towards Robbie. He nodded at the cup. "Go on, get that down your neck."

" _'Get that down your neck'_?" Robbie repeated incredulously, lifting the tea bag to see if the color of the water was right.

Hathaway leaned against the stove, folding his arms. "You've been away."

"I'll say," muttered Robbie. He took a cautious sip of tea - oh god, it was glorious. There just wasn't anything like having a nice cup of tea when you were at home.

"I've been working with DC Stein, he's up from London, the cockniest Cockney you'd ever want to meet. "

Robbie didn't have anything to say to that, feeling a bit put out and realizing only a moment later why that was so.

Hathaway pushed off the stove, clapped one hand on Robbie's shoulder. "Get some sleep. I'll bring something home."

And with that, he left Robbie to his own devices for the rest of the afternoon. 

On the way back to the bedroom after drinking the rest of his tea and two glasses of water besides, Robbie investigated the pictures hanging here and there. A reunion snap of the of Hathaway's entire family, judging by the similarity of body types and facial features. He recognized three of them, couldn't call up their names, though. One of the sisters lived in America, one of the M states. He'd known there were more, of course, seeing them all together...Hathaway looked like he belonged. A framed article and accompanying photo of himself and Hathaway on the Jefferson debacle, another of just him and Laura after their happy announcement. Robbie shook his head and moved on. She had been Hathaway's friend, too, might still be for all he knew.

With a heavy sigh, Robbie left the pictures to themselves and and stripped down to skivvies and vest. God, yes, a bed at last. He groaned as he slipped between cool sheets, the familiar scent of James's washing powder making him feel right at home. Finally comfortable, he snuggled under the blanket and slept.

~*~

"What did you mean, earlier?"

Robbie looked up from his half-finished roast. "Hmm?"

Val slid onto the chair opposite, looking at him earnestly. "You begged me not to leave you - whatever made you think I was going to leave you? You know I'd never?"

"Oh," he glanced down at the gravy beginning to congeal as his plate cooled. "Had a funny dream. Y'know how it is."

"You do go all funny at this time of the year," she murmured. "Is it becau- "

"No!" he barked, gentled his tone a moment later. "No, of course not."

"I would understand if that were the case," she said, eyes wide, her hesitant smile proof of her vulnerability.

He reached out and squeezed her hand. "I've told you, love, I'm fine with the two we have."

"Well...I would. I'd let you go if that's what you wanted."

It was a struggle, containing his annoyance at having this conversation, again. "It's fine, it's all fine, Val."

"You know if I were to die tomorrow, I'd want you to find someone else."

"Oh for god's sake!" Robbie shouted, rocketing up from the table, his fork clattering on to the floor. He was sorry for making Val jump, but Jesus, enough already with this macabre talk. He took a pace away, swung back to lean against the back of the chair. "I'm not going anywhere, Val, and neither are you. We're young, we've got years ahead of us!" he ameliorated his tone, again. Just because the kids were outside, that didn't mean they couldn't overhear. 

Val nodded quickly. "I'm just telling you what I want, that's all."

"Noted," he grabbed his jacket from the other chair and put it on. "I've got to get back to work, I'll see you later."

~*~

"Wakey wakey, eggs and bakey..."

This...this was Hathaway's revenge, Robbie was sure of it. He wasn't sure why he deserved revenge, only that Hathaway meant it, because Robbie could smell fresh coffee, and if he could smell fresh coffee, that meant Hathaway was cooking and Hathaway's cooking was a reason to make the dead rise, never mind groggy detective inspectors how had recently flown in from around the world.

Halfway through his breakfast, which this morning came with a delicious black pudding, Lewis took a sip of coffee and swallowed, eyeing Hathaway all the while. "I've been having the strangest dreams."

Hathaway quirked an eyebrow, ate a bite of toast covered in orange marmalade. Thick cut, because Hathaway was a masochist.

"I keep dreaming of Val," Robbie shook his head ruefully. "I used to dream of her all the time, before we were married. After, not so much."

"Too tired, I expect," said Hathaway, deadpan.

A bit close to the bone, that. But given what had happened after Mark's arrival...well, things had changed. "It's just...I don't understand why. Why now?"

Hathaway shrugged. "All Hallows, Halloween, Dia de los Muertos, Samhain. The thinning of the bonds of this world and the next, a time when all across the world, people celebrate their ancestors and those who have passed on. We light candles in preparation for All Saints and All Souls, greet the lost with rum and tobacco and incense, sugar and cacao, express our love."

Robbie stared at Hathaway. "Are you telling me my dead wife has come back in my dreams to tell me she's all right, and that she misses me?"

"Why not?" asked Hathaway, pointedly looking down at his plate, mangling a bit of grilled tomato with his knife.

Talk like that could get a man to thinking.

"And you believe this?" he asked, stabbing a bit of sausage and egg together.

"I see no evidence to contradict it."

Such a Hathawayish answer. Robbie couldn't help but chuckle. "I prefer to tell my loved ones they're loved long before I cross to the other side, ta very much."

A hint of a smile, then, the merest up-curl at the corner of Hathaway's mouth. Robbie found himself rather obsessed with it, and he almost burst out with how he loved Hathaway, how Hathaway was instrumental in him coming back from New Zealand, how much he had missed Hathaway and his big brain and his ridiculous ways of courting completely unsuitable women. 

Of course, he thought better of it a second later. Still, it was a damned close call, and he wondered if maybe he should have emailed Hathaway before he had gotten on the plane, maybe mention he'd missed everyone so much and New Zealand, though beautiful, wasn't quite what he had thought it would be. Obviously he wouldn't have talked about Laura, yet Hathaway would have understood, of that Robbie was sure. 

"I missed you. While you were away. More than I thought, if I'm honest," murmured Hathaway.

Oh. 

Hathaway side-eyed Robbie, making sure what he was saying was alright. As if Robbie would dissuade him. "I missed you too, bonnie lad."

Maybe it was the way he said it, or maybe it was because he hadn't so much as spoken Laura's name aloud. Maybe it was because it was just the two of them, sitting in Hathaway's lovely, lovely flat, with the morning sun streaming through the windows, the ticking of the old fashioned clock on the mantel suddenly the second loudest noise Robbie could hear, after the beating of his own heart. 

"Are you glad to be back?"

"Yes," Robbie said firmly. "I thought I could leave again, but this place is in me blood, now. This is home, with the people I love the most in all the world."

"Mm," hummed Hathaway, abruptly getting up, coffee cup in hand.

"I was hoping I could stay here for awhile, until I get my bearings back?" Robbie called, trying not to sound overeager, because he was intensely aware that something had changed within himself, something that made him look at Hathaway differently. That he had been looking at Hathaway like this for some time, actually, and only now had he allowed himself to notice it. All over breakfast eggs and bacon and pudding. The very ordinariness of it seemed entirely appropriate.

Hathaway was busy at the sink. "Absolutely."

It was a stiff back Robbie was facing, but that was all right, it was one he was familiar with; Hathaway's fear. Well, he had only himself to blame for it. "I'll try not to be too much trouble."

Whatever Hathaway was doing, he paused. He shut off the water, half turned towards Robbie, looking down at the floor. "Are you…staying? This time?"

Robbie closed his eyes briefly, sorrow lancing him through and through. "Aye, lad. I'll be staying. Forever, if you like."

Hathaway nodded, turned the water back on. Started to sing, soft but true.

Aye, lad. Aye.


End file.
